


Evolution

by notfreyja, Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: Doubt The Stars [9]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Divorce, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, sex as self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notfreyja/pseuds/notfreyja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Spock asserts his need to be Vulcan (in the least Vulcan way possible) Jim is left to put himself back together.</p><p>Luckily for him, Gaila and a newly minted Dr. McCoy are invested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/evolution#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

See, Leonard graduates two months after this whole… Spock thing. Jim’s nineteen, and crazy with heartbreak, and the symptoms of that? Not good.

 

Though— never let it be said that Jim doesn’t make nymphomania look good.

 

That’s what it is, in a way— though Leonard isn’t sure how much Jim’s recent behavior has to do with pleasure. Leonard thinks Jim’s trying to…  _ forget _ . Forget the way he tasted, he felt.

 

Leonard did something similar, after his first girl left him for a hick three towns over. He gets it, he does, but…  _ Jesus _ . It’s bad.

 

The drinking gets worse. Jim’s tolerance has always been awe-inspiring, but the way he’s ramped it up... Leonard’s had his fingers down Jim’s throat more times than should ever happen between two friends.

 

Point is, by graduation, Leonard knows he can’t leave Jim alone to finish out his year without support. So he takes a job in a private practice just outside off campus, rents a townhouse a few blocks away, and moves Jo and Jocelyn to Oxford, Mississippi.

 

Just in case.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Jim? Jim, you home?”

 

A head pops up from the couch— an Orion girl with red, curly hair.

 

Leonard’s not even surprise.

 

“Hey, you know where Jim is?”

 

The girl stretches.

 

“He’s in class,” she tells him. “Are you Len?”

 

“I— yeah.” Leonard frowns. “You… are you his girlfriend?” Jim would have told him if he was going steady with someone. Wouldn’t he?

 

The girl laughs.

 

“That’s freakin’ hilarious,” she says. “Jim didn’t say you were funny.”

 

Okay, then.

 

“So, you’re not his girlfriend?”

 

She shakes her head.

 

“I’m his sister. Gaila.” She gets to her feet, tugging the wrinkles out of her sunflower-patterned dress. “You want coffee? Jim’s coming home soon— he gets a break Thursdays.”

 

Well, why not? Jo’s at school and Jocelyn’s having one of those days where she can’t get out of bed.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


Leonard’s heard of Gaila, in an abstract sort of way. Jim’s told him stories about running through walls, of the aggressive teasing of Vulcans and a best girlfriend on Vulcan. But Jim, the asshole, never actually mentioned she was adopted. Well, whatever. After twenty minutes of small talk and coffee, Leonard gets why Jim likes her.

 

She’s crazy.

 

Not like Jim, nowhere near as bad, but she’s got that same look in her eye that Jim gets when he’s planning, except she has that look when she  _ talks _ .

 

“— So my cousin Donnie, right? He goes up to Gene and pops him— pow!— right in the goddamn face. And Gene’s standing there looking like God himself came down to moon him. And he just looks at me, all big-eyed surprised, blood all down his face and shirt ‘cause Donnie broke his nose, and it just comes out— ‘Gaila, will you go to prom with me?’”

 

Leonard’s only laughed this hard with one other person— Jim. There’s more of a family resemblance than he thought.

 

“Gaila, why didn’t you tell me we had company?”

 

“Jim, there you are— coffee?”

 

Leonard feels arms wrap around his shoulders and a cheek press against his. He reaches back to return the hug.

 

“Hey, Jim. How ya feelin’?”

 

“Pretty great.” Leonard feels his cheek pull back in a grin. “Had these three blonds over last night— fraternal triplets, you know? Fuck, man—”

 

Leonard pulls away with a grimace, swatting at Jim’s face.

 

“Goddammit, Jim, I don’t wanna hear that kinda crap, you know that.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, Len.” Jim pouts. “It’s a good story.”

 

“You want any coffee, Jim? It’s fresh.”

 

“Nah, I just came home to drop my shit. Got a lunch date with Joe Crimbass, you remember him from last night?”

 

“The kid with the gold tooth?”

 

“The very same.” He slaps Leonard on the back cheerfully. “Good to see ya, Len. I’ll come around Friday, make some of my world famous barbecue-teriyaki wings, how about that?”

 

“Sounds just fine, kid.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

And like that, he’s gone again.

 

Gaila sighs.

 

“Thanks for being here for him,” she tells Leonard softly, fiddling with her coffee cup. “I know he’s… difficult.”

 

Leonard flushes.

 

“It’s no trouble, darlin’,” he says. “He’s just a little heartbroke.”

 

“Yeah, well, not many people would move their whole family just for him.” Gaila smiles. “Jim knows what you did. He’ll pay you back.”

 

“He doesn’t have to. He’s my friend.”

 

“I know. But he’ll try anyway.” She sips her coffee. “I’ll try and straighten him out a little bit before I take off again. I took a semester off to come see him, so he won’t be bringing so much trash home anymore.”

 

Which— Leonard appreciates that.

 

“If you can get him to cut back on the drinkin’, I won’t even care,” he says. “His liver’s probably lookin’ like it went through a grinder by now.”

 

She chuckles.

 

“That’s Jim,” she says simply. “At least, without Spock.”

 

“Well, that damned Vulcan isn’t here, so fuck him.” Leonard’s hand tightens around his mug. “He’s the one that caused all this mess in the first place.”

 

“... Yeah, I guess.” Gaila sighs again. “I’m worried about Spock too, though. T’Pring says he’s not talking to her anymore— or anyone else.”

 

“I couldn’t give less of a damn,” Leonard says firmly. “He fucked Jim up. He can rot in hell for all I care.”

 

Gaila snorts.

 

“If you knew him, you’d like him,” she says. “You’d get why he did it.”

 

“I don’t wanna get it.”

 

“... Yeah. I don’t think I want to get it, either— but I do, and so does Jim.”

 

Leonard grunts.

 

Spock’s still a bastard, and if Leonard ever actually meets him, he’ll tell him so.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jocelyn decides to spend the summer with her girlfriends in Paris, so Leonard waits a week before packing up Jo and heading for Iowa.

 

He calls him after they stop for the night.

 

“We’ll be there tomorrow,” he says into the comm. “Probably around dinner, so make us something decent, alright?”

 

“I— what? Shit, Len, you couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

 

“What the fuck—  _ fudge _ do you think this is?” Leonard glances at Jo. She’s busy with her PADD, so hopefully she didn’t notice the slip up.

 

Jim curses again on the other end of the line.

 

“I figured you guys were coming, but I’m not ready,” he complains. “I just need another week to finish—”

 

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Leonard says firmly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jim.”

 

“Right. Okay. Yeah. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

 

The call ends, so Leonard changes into his pajamas and settles down next to Jo on the bed.

 

“Your Uncle Jim’s crazy,” he tells her.

 

“Well, you owe the swear jar a quarter,” Jo says. “So I guess you’re even.”

 

Leonard gives up and goes to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

He only managed to get lost twice before pulling up to the Kirk farm— a crowning achievement, as far as Leonard’s concerned. After all, Jim’s mother did buy a house in the middle of nowhere. 

 

They pull up the drive and Leonard is just beginning to battle the five point harness holding his daughter to the seat when Jim crashes out of the front door, trips on his way down the stairs, and bounds right up to the truck, nearly skidding into the side of it.

 

This kid is like a damn dog.

 

“Hey Jo-jo!”

 

He girl squeals, jumping out of the vehicle the instant she’s freed and right into Jim’s arms. “Uncle Jimmy!”

 

He spins her around, sets her down, and then grins mischievously. “I think you should go check out the backyard.”

 

She dashes off with a squeal, leaving her father with a sense of foreboding. The second Jo’s out of earshot, Leonard whirls on Jim.

 

“What the fuck did you do?”

 

Jim just grins, and then they hear a scream.

 

Leonard, dashes around the house, Jim running right after him,  _ laughing,  _ the bastard. The round the corner, and McCoy stops dead in his tracks.

 

High in the branches of a sprawling oak, is the biggest tree house he’s ever seen.

 

Joanna is practically vibrating. “Jim, there’s a treehouse!”

 

“I know, Jo.” Jim laughs again. “I built it for you.”

 

Her eyes get impossibly wider. “For  _ me? _ ”

 

He nods, and before Leonard can so much as blink, his daughter is scrambling up the ladder.

 

Jim smiles innocently.

 

“Why?”

 

He shrugs. “There’s not much to do around here for her. I started it about a week ago, finished it just in time— next time, I’m demanding at least a week’s notice when you two decide to visit. You’re welcome.”

 

“If she falls out, it’ll be your head.”

 

“There’s a  _ floor. _ ” And anti-grav cushioning, but that’s whatever.

 

They’ll figure it out.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila:

I’m worried about you.

 

Spock:

There is no need to be.

 

Gaila:

Right, well, that helps.

Come on, Spock, you’ve got to be feeling something.

 

Spock:

I feel nothing but satisfaction.

My logic is sound.

 

Gaila:

That’s bullshit and you know it.

Jim loves you.

You love him back.

Why is it so difficult to believe the stars aligned and shit worked out?

 

Spock:

Where Jim is involved, there will be consequences. I will not put my future at stake because of this illogical bonding.

 

Gaila:

You didn’t care so much when you thought it was  _ telsu _ .

 

Spock:

That is different.

 

Gaila:

Explain how.

 

Spock:

A bondmate is a part of the societal order in a way that  _ telsu _ is not. Jim will never respect that order, or the responsibility that comes with being a part of it. He is not an ideal bondmate.

 

Gaila:

You’re a fucking dumbass.

My brother will move heaven and earth if he thinks it’ll make you happy. You don’t think he’ll listen to a few old windbags if you want it?

 

Spock:

I am not having this conversation with you.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila:

Have you spoken to Spock at all?

 

T’Pring:

Negative. He has rebuffed all attempts at conversation since returning to Vulcan.

 

Gaila:

Fuck.

 

T’Pring:

Indeed.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Gaila:

Your son’s a moron.

 

Amanda:

At this point in time, I’m inclined to agree with you.

How’s Jim?

 

Gaila:

I think we’re lucky he’s alive right now.

 

Amanda:

Has Winona gone to see him?

 

Gaila:

Mommy’s somewhere on the edge of the Neutral Zone.

She sent him a bottle of Romulan Ale.

Because he totally need help with destroying his liver.

 

Amanda:

Well, she tried.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda:

Jim’s not taking it well.

 

Winona:

Of course not, he’s my kid.

I’m still dealing with George, and I’ve got myself a boyfriend.

 

Amanda:

You’ve got

No.

Nope.

We’re talking about Jim now.

You need to talk to him.

 

Winona:

I’ve been talking to him, off and on.

His friend Len’s been a Godsend, from what I understand.

If your boy doesn’t get his shit together they might become something more, I think.

 

Amanda:

From what I understand, Mr. McCoy is married.

 

Winona:

I can smell the alimony from here. It won’t last.

And it’s Dr. McCoy now.

He graduated this past year.

 

Amanda:

Gaila went to visit him last semester.

Are you going to visit?

 

Winona:

I’ll be about as much help as you are right now.

Leave it. They’ll figure it out.

Or they won’t.

And Jim’ll marry a doctor and adopt his adorable kid.

 

Amanda:

It’s suddenly clear why your son does not come to you for relationship advice.

 

Winona:

Does he go to you?

 

Amanda:

I see why you don’t have many friends.

 

Winona:

Really? Syruk thinks I’m a delight.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda:

Jim, how are you?

 

Jim:

As good as I can be.

 

Amanda:

I’m sorry about this whole mess. He’ll come around, I promise.

We’re all working on it.

 

Jim:

That’s sweet of you, but don’t.

I can’t really deal with that right now.

I’d appreciate it if you didn’t message me for a while.

Just until I can sort through everything on my own.

 

Amanda:

Okay, sweetheart. I love you.

 

Jim:

I know.

 

Amanda:

Did you just Han Solo me?

Cute.

Don’t be a stranger.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Amanda:

Go fix your brother.

He’s beyond my help.

 

Sybok:

What happened?

 

Amanda:

He reacted poorly to the revelation of who his bondmate is.

 

Sybok:

How bad?

 

Amanda:

All contact has been suspended. I think he’s closed off their mental link, as well.

 

Sybok:

God damn it.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Sybok:

Do you have any idea how badly you have fucked me?

DO YOU?

 

Spock:

‘Fuck’ does not translate well, Sybok. Please refrain from using it.

 

Sybok:

Then I’ll write in goddamn Standard.

I’ve been working on my dissertation for seven years, now, did you know?

 

Spock:

I was aware.

 

Sybok:

And in four days, you’ve managed to fuck literally SEVEN YEARS of my research.

 

Spock:

How?

 

Sybok:

Talk to Jim, little brother.

 

Spock:

I do not see how the two are correlated.

 

Sybok:

I swear the next time we meet I will punch you into another week.

 

Spock:

I was unaware that time travel could be achieved via physical violence.

 

Sybok:

See you next Tuesday.

 

Spock:

Are you visiting?

 

Sybok:

Jesus Christ.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a brisk Sunday morning in Riverside, Iowa, and Jim is making pancakes— blueberry for Leonard, chocolate chip for Jo, and banana for himself. The smell is amazing, partially because he’s an amazing cook and partially because of that roach he saved for himself on the ride up.

 

It’s a nice, early morning.

 

Gaila’s given him a new playlist to listen to, made up of early classical rock’n’roll like Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly and Jerry Lee Lewis, and it pours through the little radio he’s set up in one of the extra cabinets. The noise wakes the owner of little feet, and before too long, a sleepy-eyed girl in Transformers-themed pajamas (Jim is the best uncle) is hugging him around his middle.

 

He ruffles her red hair absently as he flips a pancake into the air.

 

“Morning, Jo-Jo,” he says. “Start some coffee for your Daddy?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Jim hums quietly to himself as the coffee machine starts. The smell will likely wake his grumpy doctor, and depending on his hangover, they’ll maybe spend the day at the playground.

 

True to form, not ten minutes later there’s the crash of someone falling out of bed, followed by a muffled shout of pain.

 

“I think Daddy’s awake,” Jo observes.

 

“Good thing breakfast’s ready. Sit down— I’ll get the syrup.”

 

By the time Leonard gets himself together enough to come downstairs, Jo is starting on her second pancake and Jim’s rinsing out the batter bowl.

 

“Here, Len— best part of the morning.”

 

Leonard leans close when Jim hands him his coffee. His balance is never the best on these early mornings.

 

He blinks stupidly at the mug for a second, takes a sip, and sighs.

 

“Thanks, Jim.”

 

Jim grins and pats him bracingly on the shoulder.

 

“Nice bedhead, Len. Sit down, there’s blueberries in yours.”

 

Leonard makes a face but obeys, stopping to press a kiss on his daughter’s cheek as he passes her.

 

It makes a nice picture, Jim thinks as he sets the dishes in the sink and takes his usual seat. Him and Len and Jo, all sitting at the kitchen table with pancakes and orange juice, morning sun streaming through truly hideous chicken-patterned curtains as Jo tells them about the dream she had last night (something about space dragons…  _ awesome _ ) and Leonard nods along like he knows exactly what she’s talking about. In another life, this could be a regular thing for Jim. It could be something more than what it is.

 

Maybe.

  
  


*.*

  
  


When Spock begins his application process to the Vulcan Science Academy, Amanda decides that she’s had enough.

 

One day, after yet  _ another  _ fruitless stream of messaging (this time with Number One) she storms into his room, right up to his desk, and rips the PADD right out of his hands.

 

He looks up at her, blinking in shock. “Mother, I was—”

 

“I don’t care. Spock, whatever it is, it can wait five minutes.” She takes a deep breath. “For this one time,  _ just this once _ , I am going to speak and you are going to hold your comments until I am finished, because in this situation, I actually know more than you.”

 

He stares at her in silence for a moment before sighing in acceptance.

 

“This is about Jim.”

 

“Yes, this is about Jim!”

 

He stays silent, and Amanda takes that as permission to proceed.

 

“Sweetheart, I know why you did it. I’m not judging you for it. It may have been the most…  _ logical  _ response at the time. But it wasn’t the right choice. He loves you, more than anything.  And I know you love him, too.”

 

“It is not—”

 

“Not what? Vulcan?” She laughs. “Then neither is your father.”

 

Spock quirks an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected this line of argument— which is why she used it.

 

Amanda smiles sadly, handing back his PADD. “No matter who you chose to be, you will always be just a little Human. To be Human is to forgo doing what makes sense, in favour of doing what is right.”

 

She goes to leave him then, but pauses with her hand on the door. “But if you insist on the Vulcan approach, I fail to see the logic in causing yourself undue pain for the sake of public approval.”

 

With that, his mother leaves.

 

It takes Spock one hundred and sixteen percent longer to finish his application than it should have.

 

She has given him much to think about.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Jim didn’t know Leonard’s plan to move to Oxford until it was already set in stone, complete with a house and a practice and a live-in wife and child.

 

For the most part, it’s okay. Jocelyn has her bad days, but as far as Jim can tell, she’s always had bad days, and Leonard’s long since learned to work around them.

 

(Jim knows, though, that it helps that he’s there to pick Jo up from school when Jocelyn doesn’t and babysit when Leonard works late. He doesn’t mind. He likes being helpful.)

 

Jocelyn is a nice enough lady, when her meds work, nice enough that she sort of becomes Jim’s Friend by the time his classes start up again, as opposed to Jim’s Friend’s Wife. So it sort of hurts when she decides to pull this bullshit.

 

“Jo and I are goin’ to my Ma’s,” she says as she carries triple her weight in bags out to the car. “We need some time away.”

 

Jo’s already strapped into the car seat and Leonard— Leonard’s too shocked to fight her. He’s still as a statue, helpless to do anything but watch as Jocelyn throws the calmest fit Jim’s ever seen her throw.

 

Leonard may be speechless, but Jim’s not. He’s also not technically involved, so he can’t explode the way he wants to.

 

“Joss, come on, this is a little sudden,” he says, keeping his voice as light as he can manage. “Don’t you wanna think about this first? Come on, I’ll make dinner, we— you and Len can talk about it.”

 

“Don’t need to think about it, Jim,” Joss says as she reshuffles the stuff she’s thrown in her trunk. “I’ve been thinking about it since we moved here. Before, even.”

 

“Oh, c’mon, Joss—”

 

“Leo can speak for himself, Jim,” she interrupts. “He needs some time to sort himself out. If he manages, he knows where to find me. Ma’s house is exactly where it’s always been.”

 

And with that, she slams the trunk shut and circles to the driver’s side. She doesn’t look a Leonard at all, but— but Jo’s screaming, thrashing in her car seat and reaching for the window as her mother pulls away.

 

“...  _ Shit _ .”

 

Leonard collapses onto the stoop of the little house, burying his face in his hands.

 

“Shit, oh, shit,  _ oh shit _ —”

 

“Len, Len— she’ll be fine, okay?” Jim settles beside him, one arm looping reflexively around his shoulders. “She gets like this, you’ve told me she’s pulled stuff like this before—”

 

“Shit!”

 

“... I think we’ve lost language,” Jim says. “Okay. Come on. Let’s go inside. We’ll have a beer and you can calm down—”

 

“Not going back in there,” Leonard grunts into his hands. “She fucked it all up.”

 

“Then we’ll go to my place, okay? Does that work?”

 

“Jim?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I think it’s fucked this time.”

 

“I doubt it. Come on. Everything’s clearer after a few beers, right?”

 

Jim considers it a win when his friend gets to his feet. He considers it less of a win when Leonard pounds six beers in the first hour.

  
This is going to be very, very bad.


	4. Chapter 4

Sarek arrives home that evening to a wife in better mood that he’s witnessed in months. He finds her in the library, and takes a seat near her.

 

“Spock is going back to Jim,” she informs him without looking up from her novel.

 

“How are you certain?”

 

“I know my son.”

 

Sarek gives this a moment's thought. “I do not think that would be a wise course.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

There is a harder edge to her voice now. He must choose his words carefully.

 

“It would be more logical for Spock to have a Vulcan wife. He is already socially disadvantaged, a bondmate not respectful of our customs.”

 

There is a long silence, both externally and through their bond. When Amanda speaks, her voice is cold.

 

“You married me. A human woman. Against all logic or societal norm. You had a  _ hybrid child _ with me. And now you tell me that you would be ashamed of our son should he follow in his father’s footsteps and take a non-Vulcan mate.” She pauses, and he can feel her distress building.

 

“Ashayam, I-”

 

“Are you ashamed of me, Sarek?”

 

His lips part slightly in shock. “No, my wife. Taluhk nash-veh k’dular.”

 

“So you’re a hypocrite, then.”

 

This conversation has a seventy two percent chance of Amanda becoming enraged. Sarek must tread carefully to diffuse the situation.

 

“My disapproval of Spock’s current bondmate has no roots in the species. I merely believe that James Kirk is not a fortuitous choice.”

 

Amanda barks a bitter laugh. Sarek has never quite understood that tendency of hers: to laugh to express displeasure. He knows only that it disturbs him deeply.

 

“And here I was, thinking that you were fond of the boy.”

 

“I bear him no ill will.” He sighs, “I even consider him to be beneficial to our son as a companion.”

 

“But only in a platonic fashion?”

 

It seems that his wife understands him after all. This went better than the ambassador expected. “Correct.”

 

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

 

Or perhaps he has greatly misjudged the situation entirely.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock stares at the unopened message on his comm. It’s almost a ritual, by now, done in spare moments of what most certainly isn’t melancholy. There are a lot of moments like that, for a lot of reasons.

 

The name ‘James’ is stark, bolded black on his screen.

 

The message itself was sent months ago, within hours of Spock’s decision to return to Vulcan. At first, he’d ignored it. Now, though— now he’s afraid to open it.

 

“Spock? What are you looking at?”

 

Spock doesn’t hurry, exactly, but his comm disappears into the folds of his robe nonetheless.

 

“Brother,” he greets. “You’re home early.”

 

Sybok grins, pushing too-long hair behind his ear.

 

“Amanda has been sending me increasingly worrying messages over the past few months,” Sybok says. “About you. I figured I’d run interference until you made a decision for yourself.”

 

“I have made my decision.”

 

“But you’re second-guessing it.”

 

“You have a gift for drawing the most baseless of conclusions.”

 

“Is it really baseless, though?” Sybok flops onto the couch beside him. “How are you, little brother, really?”

 

Spock purses his lips.

 

“I… I am discontent,” he says after a moment. “James and I have not been out of contact for so long since his time on Tarsus IV.”

 

Sybok winces.

 

“... This really sucks,” he says. “You two need to work something out.”

 

“Explain how I might ‘work something out’ with James?”S

 

“Well, you could talk to him,” Sybok offers.

 

“I cannot.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“...” Spock sighs. “I believe I have waited too long.”

 

“So… you’re going to wait longer.”

 

“It is not waiting if I have no intention of rekindling our friendship at this juncture.”

 

“ _ Friendship _ , he says.  _ Waited too long _ , he says. Christ, Spock, that boy’s been in love with you as long as I can remember.”

 

“Mother has pointed out this fact numerous times. As has Gaila.”

 

“You’re talking to Gaila?”

 

“She is difficult to ignore.”

 

Sybok needs to send that girl a fruit basket.

 

“Gaila says I have wounded him,” Spock continues. “I have no way of correcting my mistakes. And there is talk of a doctor.”

 

“A doctor?”

 

“Gaila has her suspicions.” His little brother doesn’t elaborate, so Sybok makes a guess. It isn’t a comforting one.

 

“Well, maybe her suspicions won’t come to pass if somebody actually tries to talk to their wife instead of, you know, hiding out at his parents’ house and sulking because he doesn’t have a proper Vulcan girl to fuck every seven years.”

 

Spock grimaces.

 

“Sybok, please.”

 

“What? That’s the reason for this whole mess, isn’t it? You’re afraid of what the others might say.” Sybok leans closer. “Let me tell you a secret, little brother. All those people that sneer at Father and Lady Amanda? All those people that sneer at you? They’ll sneer no matter what you do. You may as well do what makes you happy, and damn the rest of them.”

 

“You are not helpful in this matter, Sybok.”

 

“How so?”

 

Spock’s face tightens slightly, like he’s steeling himself.

 

“I have… affection, for James.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock.”

 

“Be silent, Watson.”

 

Sybok blinks in surprise. “I’m no Watson—”

 

“I have affection for James, yet have been blind to it,” Spock repeats. “And now I have possibly damaged our relationship permanently.”

 

“You could talk to him.”

 

“And say what?”

 

“An apology would be a good start.”

 

Spock shakes his head.

 

“Nothing I might say could undo what I have done,” he says. “There is nothing to do but regret.”

 

“You are actually a middle schooler,” Sybok informs him. “I say he’ll likely take you back in a heartbeat. That boy loves you to pieces.”

 

“But he may have moved on from me. Perhaps it is time I move forward as well.”

 

“And what, break the bond?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“You’d destroy him.” Sybok straightens. “His mind could shatter under the strain.”

 

“... I know.”

 

“Spock—”

 

“I have not yet acted,” Spock interrupts. “But perhaps with the proper support… he may survive it, and live well.”

 

“You love him too much to do something so cruel.”

 

Spock stands.

 

“I must think on this further,” he says. “It is a serious matter.”

 

“One that needs his consent, so buck up and  _ talk to him _ .”

 

“You are of no help, Sybok. I take my leave.”

 

Sybok sits back, sighing to himself. It’s another mark Jim’s left on his brother— in moments of stress, he falls back on Shakespearean cadence.

 

And the best part? He doesn’t notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan Translations:  
> "Ashayam" - beloved  
> "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular" - I cherish thee.


	5. Chapter 5

Amanda smoothed out the nonexistent creases in her son’s sweater, smiling encouraging. “You’ll get in, Spock. I know you will.”

 

He sighs. “I am no longer certain that is my wish.”

 

Her smile softens. “Whoever you chose to be, you will have a proud mother.”

 

Spock does not say it, but that means more to him than any other expression of affection she has ever given him.

 

She knows.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock and Sarek are twin statues of apprehension as the council prepares to deliver their verdict. This is the moment Spock has been working towards for nearly a year. And yet…

 

“You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors. Your final record is flawless, with one exception: I see you have applied to Starfleet as well.”

 

Spock keeps his calm with stoic precision. “It was logical to cultivate multiple options.”

 

“Logical, but unnecessary. You are hereby accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy.” And just like that, with one easy sentence, all of Spock’s stress is gone, lifted away. All of his hard work has paid off. He has been given the opportunity to prove himself. No Vulcan would deny an accomplished scholar the respect he is merited. Perhaps, at long last, the ostracism of his youth can be put behind him. “It is truly remarkable, Spock, that you have achieved so much, despite your disadvantage.”

 

… Or perhaps not.

 

“If you would clarify, Minister, to what disadvantage are you referring?”

 

He does not need to know this, it is the same  _ disadvantage  _ that he has been trying to overcome his entire life. But he asks anyway, because for the first time in his life, Spock wants to hear them say it.

 

“Your Human mother.”

 

At those words, something shifts deep within him. He knows, without even the slightest doubt, that no matter what he does, who he becomes… Vulcan will never accept his Human heritage. And for the first time since he was a little boy with a split lip, that sentiment angers him.

 

Vulcan will never accept his Human mother. They will never accept his Human half. And they most certainly will not accept his Human bondmate.

 

His  _ bondmate.  _

 

_ James. _

 

Everything slides into place with that thought, and finally, after years of feeling at a loss, of months of self doubt, Spock knows what it is he must do.

 

“Council… Ministers, I must decline.”

 

“No Vulcan has ever declined admission into this academy!” The Minister practically squeaks. Spock finds it remarkable that only a few precious seconds ago, he had feared his judgement.

 

But he’s only begun— he might as well press his advantage. They should know why they are losing their most promising potential student. “Then, as I am half-human, your record remains untarnished.”

 

Sarek grits his teeth. The rest of the council does not know the offense they have spoken. They also do not know his son. They do not know how hard he has worked, not just academically, but socially as well. And here his child is, about to throw all of that work away on the premise of some Human pride. Sarek is helpless in this moment, but he tries to intervene nonetheless. “Spock, you have made a commitment to honor the  _ Vulcan _ way.”

 

“Why did you come before this council today? Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?” 

 

Sarek almost cuts the Minister off. He cannot see he is making it worse, that with that last remark, he has removed even the most remote chance of persuading Spock to change his mind. It has been a long time since Sarek was embarrassed by his peers.

 

“The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude. Thank you, Ministers, for your consideration.”

 

There is fire in Spock’s eyes now. He has never looked so much like his mother.

 

“Live long and prosper.”  _ Go fuck yourself _ , is what James might say, but Spock doesn’t hold with swear words, even if they do so well suit this particular situation.

 

Sarek is powerless to do anything but watch as his son delivers the ta’al with visible indifference, turns sharply on his heels, and stalks out of the room without another word.

 

And if Sarek feels a sudden sense of illogical pride at Spock’s almost artful display? No one needs to know but himself.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Spock stares at his comm. The comm stares back, the lettering of his unopened message— the unopened message— dark and too sharp against the comfortable white of the application.

 

James.

 

He hasn’t opened it yet, has forced himself not to open it in fear of James realizing that he has read it, that maybe he has not yet moved past the events that happened… nearly a year ago, now.

 

He’d thought of breaking the bond before, had thought of it seriously, but it seems that somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had long since decided it was not the course of action he would take.

 

Spock is ashamed that it has taken him so long to realize what he has always known, that he was so cowardly as to deny it.

 

He taps the message.

 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe something written in anger? A plea to come back? Something even hazarding... romantic? But no. This is James Tiberius Kirk. He never follows the typical patterns of the Terran species. He is wholly unique, something that Spock rather admires in his bondmate.

 

Still, it takes him a moment to understand what it is, exactly, that James has sent.

  
  


James:

[HoloFile attached: evolution.2001.hvid]

  
  


Of course. Of course, in a moment of great emotional stress, James sent him… a classic Terran film. If he were anyone else, perhaps he would laugh.

 

There is no other connection, nothing else to tie him to the last definitive moment that James thought of him. With that in mind, he settles himself more comfortably at his desk and selects the file.

  
  


*.*

  
  


At this point, it’s a reflex. Jim will have a spare moment to himself, and absentmindedly check his messages with Spock. Everytime he does, he sees the same thing: Message Delivered, 02/23/2252. It’s read the same for almost a year, and it almost doesn’t hurt anymore.

 

It doesn’t really register at six am on a Tuesday morning that it’s changed. Jim’s half-asleep on the toilet and the world is a fog of too much light and not enough sleep. Still, he sees it, see the little ‘Read @’ under his message, and— once he realizes what it means, shrugs it off.

 

Spock probably opened it by mistake. Or he went in to delete the message. It doesn’t mean anything.

 

He shuts his comm and pads back into his bedroom. Len’s still asleep on his side of the bed— because he has a side now, after refusing to go back to the house he’d rented with Jocelyn and consequently having no place to stay— which would be adorable, if not for the open-mouthed snores that sort of ruin the image of a relaxed, bedhead Leonard McCoy.

 

Jim snaps a picture anyway and gets ready for school. By the time he makes it to his first lecture, he’s forgotten about the message completely.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Humans are… imaginative.

 

This isn’t the first classical Terran holo Spock has watched focusing on the scenario of first contact. It isn’t even the first holo he’s seen where the aliens in question are hostile.

 

It is, however, the first holo that Jim has ever quoted in a directly sexual situation (as far as Spock is aware, in any case)... and it’s a quote from what might be considered the least romantic moment in all of Terran cinematic history.

 

_ There’s always time for lubricant. _

 

In context, Spock supposes it might have been James attempting to use humor to diffuse a stressful situation. Regardless, it is… disturbing, being likened to an alien species that embeds itself in its prey.

 

_ Fitting _ , but disturbing.

 

Having watched this particular holo, Spock has questions. Spock has so many questions, and no one to ask, because it is very likely that the only two living people in the galaxy to have also watched this film both carry the surname Kirk and are intimidating in their own, unique ways.

 

Sighing to himself, he turns his thoughts to the more pressing matter of the youngest Kirk— James, specifically. He must contact him, the sooner the better, only— how does one begin such a conversation? What must he do to be understood, to explain his rationale without causing further harm?

 

Well, Spock has never been particularly knowledgeable when it comes to the subject of emotion. He does, however, have a contact who is— and she also happens to be a great mind on the subject of James.

 

He does the intelligent thing.

 

He messages Gaila.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we start our fall semmester of class in the morning (wish us luck, we'll need it).
> 
> Just wanted to tell you guys so you don't panic if updates come a tad slower.


	6. Chapter 6

Spock:

I must speak with Jim.

 

Gaila:

Fuck, wait a second.

Okay, I’m here.

I’ve been telling you this for months.

 

Spock:

I am aware.

Have I interrupted something?

 

Gaila:

My boyfriend’s in town, it’s fine.

He went off in a huff so I’ve got the time.

What made you decide you have to talk to Jim now?

 

Spock:

I realized it was necessary.

I am embarrassed by my actions, and wish to rectify the situation.

 

Gaila:

Rectify how? You can’t go back to just being friends.

 

Spock:

I do not wish to simply be friends.

He is my bondmate.

 

Gaila:

You treated him like shit, Spock. You’re lucky I even still talk to you.

 

Spock:

My treatment of him was shameful.

I recognize it will be difficult to remedy the situation.

It is why I thought to contact you first.

 

Gaila:

So… you’re procrastinating, is what your saying. By talking to me.

You’re procrastinating telling your husband that you finally relaxed your anal sphincters enough to pull your head out properly.

 

Spock:

Your imagery is disturbing, but I recognize the metaphor.

He is not my husband. By Vulcan law, he is adun’a. My wife.

 

Gaila:

Seriously?

Actually, never mind that. We’ve got other shit to worry about.

Go call my brother, Spock.

He’ll pick up.

 

Spock:

How can you be certain?

 

Gaila:

I know Jim. You used to, too.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Gaila informed me that you wish to contact your bondmate.”

 

Spock doesn’t jump, but it’s a near thing.

 

“T’Pring,” he greets. “You seem well.”

 

“You have caused him much pain,” she remarks. “Your bond remains intact, but you harmed him anyway. Explain.”

 

“I kept a block between us.”

 

T’Pring nods sharply.

 

“That explains the point four percent drop in your academic performance,” she says. “And why you have grown thin.”

 

“I do not understand why you are remarking upon this.”

 

“Your efforts have taken their toll on your health, confirming my hypothesis on your emotional state.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“You feel remorse.”

 

Spock’s lips pinch.

 

“... Correct.”

 

“Reopen the bond. Contact him properly,” T’Pring advises. “He knows, but he does not understand. You must allow him to feel again.”

 

“... He will not take it well.”

 

“Of course not. He is an illogical Human. However, he is _ your _ illogical Human, and he accepts that you are… ‘thick-headed’.” Her mouth forms around the metaphor strangely. Somehow, it suits anyway.

 

“I shall take that under advisement.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


It’s Jim’s birthday. He had plans to meet up with Julia, from his Advanced Molecular Biology class, but bailed last minute in favor of a Sherlock marathon with Leonard. The man had never seen the series, and in Jim’s eyes, that was a  _ travesty. _

 

Besides, he could tell that the amount of nights he spent out are really bothering Len, and while that isn’t stopping him, it makes him more more likely to stay in when his friend asks.

 

So here he is, on his twentieth birthday, watching a British drama with his best friend and mostly sober. Not the best birthday ever. Whatever. He’s had worse.

 

When the cabbie sets out the two pills, Jim can’t help but laugh. “Has Sherlock Holmes never seen the  _ Princess Bride? _ ”

 

Leonard shakes his head. “Not everyone shares your weird obsession with that movie, kid.”

 

Jim makes a face at him but lets it go, the drama is really picking up on screen and he can see that Len is really getting into it.

 

A few hours later, John Watson is strapped into a bomb jacket, and Jim’s head explodes— which really ruins the whole cinematic build up.

 

Jim has said it before, and he will say it again:  _ his crises are terribly timed. _

 

His head didn’t actually explode of course. If it had, then this little narration wouldn’t be happening because it would be the end, game over, fade to black. No, what would be a more accurate telling is that Jim suddenly felt like his skull had been walloped by an aluminum bat. From the inside. While being electrocuted.

 

He cries out, going limp, eyes squeezing shut. He can vaguely hear Len calling out to him, saying something. Jim’s pretty sure the word  _ ambulance  _ was in there somewhere. He really hopes it wasn’t, but knowing Leonard…

 

The pain subsides as quickly as it came, and the source of it is almost instantaneously revealed. The section of his mind that was blocked to him for over a year is suddenly reintegrated into the whole. Jim’s feeling double again, and the relief and  _ rightness _ of it is almost enough to cover the fear and guilt pouring into his mind from light years away.

 

Jim can think again, clear and clean and organised with mathematical precision and he almost forgot what having a clear head felt like.

 

“Jim! Kid, what the hell happened?”

 

He sits back up, still reeling from the suddenness of it all, he can only manage, “Spock.”

 

There’s a moment’s pause before Len spits.

 

“I’m going to kill that green blooded son of a bitch!”

  
Jim can only laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this fic can be found [here.](https://8tracks.com/starhobbit/evolution#smart_id=dj:16203706&play=1)
> 
> Follow [not-freyja](https://not-freyja.tumblr.com) and [straight-outta-hobbiton](https://straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.


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